Revolutions
by The Romulan Republic
Summary: Kingsley Shacklebolt's Darkest Hour.


Done in response to the First Line Competition and Challenge, with Kingsley (book-verse, obviously) as the main character. This is my response to the Challenge.

Note: I Googled to see if there was any canon mention of who Kingsley was married to, if anyone. Finding nothing, I made up a name. The text of Kingsley's message is quoted from Pottermore.

Disclaimer: As always, I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters originating therein. This story is not for profit, no money is being made from it, and no infringement of anyone's rights is intended.

 **Revolutions.**

As Kingsley stared blankly ahead, he couldn't help but wonder how everything had gotten so very wrong so quickly.

He'd known it was coming. Known it from the moment that he'd heard that Dumbledore was gone. Dumbledore was the only one that Voldemort had feared, and with Voldemort gone, they'd all known that it was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord moved against the Ministry. But not so soon. Not this soon.

He swallowed as the words replayed in his mind, overheard by chance as he waited outside the Head Auror's office.

 _"-will answer to Minister Thickness. It won't be announced until tomorrow, at the earliest, but he's the obvious choice of successor." He knew that voice. Yaxley, a conservative with suspected Death Eater ties. And he was giving orders to the head of the Auror Office. In that moment, he knew what had happened, though he didn't let himself believe it._

 _"And Scrimgeor?", Morgan had asked in reply, his voice oddly flat._

 _"That's none of your concern."_

He'd heard nothing more, but he understood. He'd slipped out when he heard Yaxley coming, and made his way down the hall towards the exit. Then he thought better of it. There was no way that they wouldn't be watching the exit, and there was no time to try to slip out. Voldemort would already be moving to consolidate his power, and with Dumbledore dead and the Ministry fallen, there was only one threat left.

 _Potter._ He'd be going for Potter and the Order again, this time with the full power of the Ministry behind him. He had to warn them. There was no time to wait. But he couldn't just send a Patronus in the middle of the corridor.

He glanced around the corner, down the corridor either way, but saw nothing. That didn't mean much, so he cast a quick "Homenum Revellio". Nothing. There were a few spells or items that might still conceal someone, but it was as safe as it was going to be. He slipped across the corridor, stepped into the mostly-empty supply closet, and concentrated.

 _The memory of his wedding night. Holding Jemma in his arms. The first time they'd made love as husband and wife..._

"Expecto Patronum." The silvery lynx flared from his wand, dancing in a circle about him, banishing the darkness of the supply closet. He allowed himself a brief smile.

He realized then that he didn't know what he was going to say. How did you deliver the news that the world as you knew it was gone? That the country you had been born in, grown up in, was now in the hands of a monster? He felt as though the world was off its axis, as though everything familiar was slipping away, and it didn't feel real. But that didn't matter now.

"The Ministry has fallen. The Minister of Magic is dead. They are coming."

He sent the silvery messenger on its way, plunging the cubboard back into darkness. Another quick detection charm, and he slipped out into the hallway, pocket his robes.

He thought about running, trying to slip out and disappear, maybe meet up with the Order. He thought about trying to fight, rallying the few Ministry employees he knew he could trust and storming the upper offices. A wild fantasy that he quickly dismissed. If he lashed out now, openly, they would kill him, and anyone fool enough to stand with him. He'd have to bide his time. Work from within. He took a deep breath, controlling his emotion and expression like he had ever time he'd ever gone undercover, in Knockturn Alley or the Prime Minister's office. Then he turned and headed back up to the Auror Office, like he was just another loyal Ministry employee going into work, like it was any other day and the world had not just ended.

He would have to lie, to turn a blind eye, to help where he could while he waited for the right moment. To pretend that he was just another loyal lackey of the new regime, until Potter found a way to defeat Voldemort. Or until he was discovered.

 _Mum, dad. Jenna. Dumbledore, Tonks, Alastor. Forgive me for what I am about to do._

And Auror Shaklebolt went to work.


End file.
